NoozeHound here.
I have been summoned to the house to be in on EMNH birthday. I am totally wrong for agreeing to a friend performing a favour on hr birthday weekend.
"I'm not staying in. You are. It's not ideal but it will have to do."
There then occurs a frank, mostly one-sided, exchange of views with regard the things I have done wrong.
"What about what you've done to me?"
"Me? I've done nothing."
She shuts the door firmly behind her.
Really, EMNH, Nothing?
* * *
It dawned on me last night, away from my more fanciful phases, that all that lay ahead with regard my relationship with EMNH:
Arguments about money.
Arguments about anything that needs doing with the house.
Arguments about childcare.
Arguments about the quality of the child care - today's topic.
She patently does not love me.
She continues to deny her other lover.
It is impossible to speculate, but I think it rational that the next ten years will be steeped in toxic bitterness dealt to me almost daily by the women I love.
I try not to feel it.
People say, "...you need to make a clean break of it."
There's no clean breaks with kids.
I feeel Despair's heavy breath down my back, engulfing my body.
Welcome to the disappointment.
Showing posts with label despair. Show all posts
Showing posts with label despair. Show all posts
11 July 2010
10 July 2010
Today I Learned
Greetings from the land of the NoozeHound. A land geographically located across most of the circles of dante's inferno.
Today I learned that Reddit is not the place to discuss a prospective suicide.
While I did read some insightful advice, the number of 'buck-up' or 'go for a walk'. 'it ain't so bad' outnumbered it vastly.
The questioner, had a far simpler life than my own and one that faces far fewer demands.
I am immensely fortunate that I have a place to sleep. However it is so far from ideal it is unbearable. The prospect of living in a hovel of my own looms menacingly. I was remeinded a few weeks ago of a bathroom with no window. It reminded me of living in my flat. It filled me with dread.
I wonder if one part of the reasoning applies to my own situatiion. My limitations and requirements are not easily accessible, less so than his own. Is this a decision to stop me being able to reach it?
Alcohol helps me to feel nothing, desensitizing me. I am trying, in my dealings and waking hours to be as nice to everyone as I can - including the object of my suffering. Great waves of sadness and almost debilitating depression wash over me when my mind stops it's focus for an instant.
In retrospect I suspect the desensitizing power of alcohol had been my solice for some months.
A Six Sentence that I posted received as simple comment - "She doesn't love you. Move on."
Whilst apparently true, the soul-destroying pain I have experienced in recognizing that truth and performing the prescribed action has been gargantuan and debilitizing.
I must find my happy face soon.
I am seeing the NoozeHoundette later, we are going shopping for EMH birthday present. Maybe to a park or a bike ride. Something to eat at a restaurant and then I am sitting her for the evening so Sing Star or Wii and a bedtime story.
Absentee Father Days. Divorced Nights. Desporate Desolation.
Welcome to the disappointment.
Today I learned that Reddit is not the place to discuss a prospective suicide.
While I did read some insightful advice, the number of 'buck-up' or 'go for a walk'. 'it ain't so bad' outnumbered it vastly.
The questioner, had a far simpler life than my own and one that faces far fewer demands.
I am immensely fortunate that I have a place to sleep. However it is so far from ideal it is unbearable. The prospect of living in a hovel of my own looms menacingly. I was remeinded a few weeks ago of a bathroom with no window. It reminded me of living in my flat. It filled me with dread.
I wonder if one part of the reasoning applies to my own situatiion. My limitations and requirements are not easily accessible, less so than his own. Is this a decision to stop me being able to reach it?
Alcohol helps me to feel nothing, desensitizing me. I am trying, in my dealings and waking hours to be as nice to everyone as I can - including the object of my suffering. Great waves of sadness and almost debilitating depression wash over me when my mind stops it's focus for an instant.
In retrospect I suspect the desensitizing power of alcohol had been my solice for some months.
A Six Sentence that I posted received as simple comment - "She doesn't love you. Move on."
Whilst apparently true, the soul-destroying pain I have experienced in recognizing that truth and performing the prescribed action has been gargantuan and debilitizing.
I must find my happy face soon.
I am seeing the NoozeHoundette later, we are going shopping for EMH birthday present. Maybe to a park or a bike ride. Something to eat at a restaurant and then I am sitting her for the evening so Sing Star or Wii and a bedtime story.
Absentee Father Days. Divorced Nights. Desporate Desolation.
Welcome to the disappointment.
31 May 2010
Dillemma
...not in the Nelly & Kelly sense either.
Fans of 'the Nooze'; I have not been completely open with you.
You see my relationship with Mrs NoozeHound ran aground some time ago and has been haemorrhaging rather badly ever since.
I have been labouring under false hope for sometime, but is has been made clear to me recently, exactly where I stand. Ideally for the future ex-Mrs NoozeHound, that will not within 50 yards of her.
I don't quite know how things got this bad, but I think it would be fair to say a large proportion of blame must lay at my door.
My play list (and therefore my tweets) should be an indicator as to my state of mind. Despite how bad things have been, it's a large chunk of shared life to lose - and it will always hurt to not be wanted.
Anyway, today, I took the NoozeHoundlette to a theme park.
In between draughts of immense sadness, I was looking around to see if there were any ready replacements available - a future ex-Mrs NoozeHound.
Now don't rush to judge me. I was not looking for a replacement per se. I was looking to see if there were ladies out there, purely on looks, that I would consider having as a partner.
You see, in many ways, the 'soon-to-be-ex-Mrs-NoozeHound' (STBEMH) is definitely an 8 if not a 9. She has many qualities I realise that I rate in a woman, namely, good breasts (C), slim figure (12-14), a preference for thongs and wearing a heeled shoe when suitable and being able to walk in them.
She has many other qualities, not least her looks, but I was evaluating purely on a visual basis.
As my sample pool was a theme park, the majority of candidates were young mothers. Said young mothers were with their equally young male partners.
NoozeHound is not equally young. When he first courted STBEMH, he was not only significantly younger but also significantly slimmer, well, quite a bit any way.
"Well NoozeHound, perhaps you should be more realistic and readjust your requirements based on your current, erm, situation?"
Maybe. But of the whole park there were less than a handful of women that I thought attractive enough that I would want on my arm. Which equates to 'were good looking enough for me to consider suitable candidates for a relationship'.
One looked a little like Emma Thompson (not Nanny McPhee), one was an oddly dressed dirty looking blonde. I didn't even evaluate their form in great detail. What it proved is I am immensely picky. Vain, picky and shallow.
I listened to some relationship advice last week, cautioning against repeat picking the same 'type'. Being more successful at moving on if one didn't pick the same type of new partner.
I thought about this. Is that 'I should not pick an especially attractive woman?'
It's true they are not without their share of difficulties, but I really couldn't imagine being with a drab, tardy, unkempt or asexual partner.
I am nearer fifty than forty and not a millionaire or a celebrity. In addition, I will be losing my home, hereby forcing me to pay exorbitant rent and having to pay (ludicrously high) child support, consequently being too poor to have any kind of supporting asset.
In a horribly vivid sense, welcome to the disappointment.
Fans of 'the Nooze'; I have not been completely open with you.
You see my relationship with Mrs NoozeHound ran aground some time ago and has been haemorrhaging rather badly ever since.
I have been labouring under false hope for sometime, but is has been made clear to me recently, exactly where I stand. Ideally for the future ex-Mrs NoozeHound, that will not within 50 yards of her.
I don't quite know how things got this bad, but I think it would be fair to say a large proportion of blame must lay at my door.
My play list (and therefore my tweets) should be an indicator as to my state of mind. Despite how bad things have been, it's a large chunk of shared life to lose - and it will always hurt to not be wanted.
Anyway, today, I took the NoozeHoundlette to a theme park.
In between draughts of immense sadness, I was looking around to see if there were any ready replacements available - a future ex-Mrs NoozeHound.
Now don't rush to judge me. I was not looking for a replacement per se. I was looking to see if there were ladies out there, purely on looks, that I would consider having as a partner.
You see, in many ways, the 'soon-to-be-ex-Mrs-NoozeHound' (STBEMH) is definitely an 8 if not a 9. She has many qualities I realise that I rate in a woman, namely, good breasts (C), slim figure (12-14), a preference for thongs and wearing a heeled shoe when suitable and being able to walk in them.
She has many other qualities, not least her looks, but I was evaluating purely on a visual basis.
As my sample pool was a theme park, the majority of candidates were young mothers. Said young mothers were with their equally young male partners.
NoozeHound is not equally young. When he first courted STBEMH, he was not only significantly younger but also significantly slimmer, well, quite a bit any way.
"Well NoozeHound, perhaps you should be more realistic and readjust your requirements based on your current, erm, situation?"
Maybe. But of the whole park there were less than a handful of women that I thought attractive enough that I would want on my arm. Which equates to 'were good looking enough for me to consider suitable candidates for a relationship'.
One looked a little like Emma Thompson (not Nanny McPhee), one was an oddly dressed dirty looking blonde. I didn't even evaluate their form in great detail. What it proved is I am immensely picky. Vain, picky and shallow.
I listened to some relationship advice last week, cautioning against repeat picking the same 'type'. Being more successful at moving on if one didn't pick the same type of new partner.
I thought about this. Is that 'I should not pick an especially attractive woman?'
It's true they are not without their share of difficulties, but I really couldn't imagine being with a drab, tardy, unkempt or asexual partner.
I am nearer fifty than forty and not a millionaire or a celebrity. In addition, I will be losing my home, hereby forcing me to pay exorbitant rent and having to pay (ludicrously high) child support, consequently being too poor to have any kind of supporting asset.
In a horribly vivid sense, welcome to the disappointment.